


Atop Fort Drakon

by MagnaMnemosyne



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood, But they get better, F/M, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Violence, it's just there, listen ok this was a prompt from my old blog so like i won't bother trying to defend it, the really short writing strikes again, this was really old and just in my fic folder so i'm subjecting you to it, vaguely implied character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnaMnemosyne/pseuds/MagnaMnemosyne
Summary: A really old fandom bodyswap piece that I found. The Warden kills the archdemon and everyone is worried for awhile until they wake up. It's short and....well, it's short





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this was literally a comic outline that I just made into a story for a fandom bodyswap. It got like, four notes. Cool.

An explosion of light, signaling to the world that the Fifth Blight was over. Cheers rose from the united army of men, elves, mages, and dwarves as the darkspawn horde scattered and the Archdemon fell. And as the Archdemon fell, so fell the Warden, still gripping the greatsword that killed the dragon, dripping in viscous, Blighted blood.

The Warden’s companions watched, apprehensive, silently daring each other to either confirm or deny their suspicions. The Dark Ritual had been performed- shouldn’t the Warden be alive?

Why aren’t they moving?

Zevran, from across the battlefield atop Fort Drakon, watched his lover fall to the floor, and panic set his heart pounding. They were fine. They had to be fine, Morrigan had sworn that nobody had to die-

_Why aren’t they moving?_

He was too far away. If he moved closer, he’d be able to see that everything was fine…

_They still aren’t moving._

He broke into a panicked run, breath ragged and burning. An eternity seemed to pass before he pushed past Alistair and Wynne to where the Warden lay, eerily still.

_No, no, no…_

Zevran approached the Warden, willing his heart to be calm as he kneeled at their side, trying to swallow his panic as he caressed their cheek. Battered, bleeding, cold. They looked more Blighted now than they ever had before, hollow eyes ringed in dark circles, skin sallow, blood of a sickening black trickling from their nose. This was all wrong, it had to be. Morrigan wouldn’t lie about this, not when her own gains were so great. They were her friend. The Warden was fine.

They had to be fine.

But they didn’t appear to be breathing.

He called their name, a quiet whisper at first, next a plea.

_Amor! Amor, please!_

He pulled his love off the ground, to his chest, holding back tears that swam hot behind his eyes.

And they coughed.

More a splutter, a gasp for breath, but it was enough. Zevran looked at his Warden, equally astounded and relieved as they took a breath, and then another, breathing deeper with each. The Warden opened their eyes, weary but clear for the first time in weeks, and grinned.

“Hey, love. Are you all right?”

He pulled them tight to his chest, clinging to them as though they might fade away at any moment, shaking with silent laughter or silent tears.

“I’m all right, mi amor. You had me worried.”

They gave a strained, painful laugh.

“It’s over?”

Zevran gazed at his lover, weary with the weight of an entire Blight, battered by demons, werewolves, civil war, and darkspawn, still trying to have hope in the world after all this. Almost begging for a moment's peace. He planted a kiss on their forehead, small and innocent.

“Yes, amor. It’s over.”


End file.
